Super Mom
by Milli Moi
Summary: Regret is aplenty in the life of Natasha Romanoff, but she is not the only one to feel it


Most kids grow up with those books and stuff, you know the type - where their dad is a superhero, or maybe a secret superhero or something like that - well, let's just say it isn't what it's cracked up to be. There's this boy in one of my school classes - Biology, if you really wanted to know - his Dad works for S.H.I.E.L.D. and he thinks he is some sort of celebrity because of this. I know for a fact that his Dad actually works in admin and only has Level five clearance. Level five is basically the same level of clearance that most geeky kids have, its all on the internet but, like, you have to dig for it. Me, as a person, I am a level ten classified asset.

If people knew I had this classification on my file then I could so easily be like that kid. I could be popular and have my own little following of fangirls and boys, but I know better. I know I am a level ten asset for a reason.

People think it's cool having a superhero parent, they think it'd be awesome and exciting. They haven't had that feeling of raw, sinking panic when they realize they introduced themselves with a name which is off the record. I mean, my birth name isn't even that weird, it's not like people would link the name to Mom, it's just that the name is considered less popular in my country of birth. I dunno if there were any babies born with my name in that year. The people that think it's cool, they don't realize I see my Mom more on tv or in magazines or newspapers than I have ever seen her in the flesh. I lived with her for a lot of my infancy but she was less important then, less recognizable than now.

Now I have a foster family, but of course, they are both S.H.I.E.L.D. agents - even my 'grandparents' are agents. I had to change my name, I had to learn a different language because I learned to talk in a language that wasn't English and so had a European accent. They call me Anna here, I have been Kristina too in the past - when there was a scare - but now I am Anna.

I am a ten-year-old school kid, I like Art and have to downplay my natural ability to strategize. I am sick. I have Sickle Cell Anemia, I am Type one Diabetic. I also have really crappy blood clotting, but that's probably all to do with the Sickle Cell.

People wouldn't get that living with Mom would be impossible simply for the health side of things. I have to stick my finger four to six times a day, more if I'm ill or doing exercise, I wear an insulin pump which feeds the hormone I don't produce back into my body. I have hypos when the sugar in my blood is so low that I feel dizzy, hungry and wobbly. A few times I have had a hypo deliberately because once I had one that made me unconscious and Mom got away to the hospital to see me. She had to stop dying her hair after that, she always used to dye it black but now she leaves it her natural red. Same as mine.

I mean, I know I can't hand this in for my assignment, I know that people can't hear what I really think it would be like to have a superhero for a Mom or Dad because I do have one - and it sucks.

I know that Mom has to do so many things that she couldn't do if I stayed with her. She would worry about me and so she would be compromised in every operation. She would be at higher risk of getting hurt or killed. She is a protector of the planet and I can't be selfish. The Planet can't die because of one kid.

But there is something very important, I am not angry. I am proud of my Mom. I know she is important and she has saved so many people from dying. She tried her best to protect me from the people that used to hurt her. She might not be around, and I might have to be sick in order to see her but I love my Mom, she is the best supermom ever. I am proud to be her детский паук.

Natasha Smiled softly at the letter, written roughly on a sheet of school notebook paper, thin and with a few holes through the sheet. The letter had arrived in a highly confidential envelope, having been checked by S.H.I.E.L.D. eyes and database before she had even known it existed. Of course, the letter had not been intended for Natasha's eyes. It was private, and she felt almost wrong having it. Still, it made her smile, she didn't smile often - and hadn't in the whole of Rose's life - there was too much at stake for genuine emotion.

She sat back in the chair behind the desk of the mandatory office that all the team had been given in the Triskelion. Still seemed a bit flashy considering she lived in a basic one bed, one bathroom apartment in a rougher part of town. There was a Mac and a very modified iPhone included with the office.

Most importantly for Natasha was the privacy the office gave her, it was a place where she could build that version of herself that she was happy to show the others - not the version that sat at home in her bra with a bucket of KFC and considered that a good meal. She was still proving herself, they had to know they could trust an immigrant, especially one from Russia.

The letter from Rose - or Anna, whatever they called her she would always be Rose - had come on either the right day or the wrong one, depending on how you chose to view it. Nat had been speaking to Clint earlier - she was one of the very few people he trusted with his family life, and it warmed her heart a little to know she was trusted by someone (even after having tried to kill him in the past). Clint had told her his news, surprising news and news he wasn't yet sure if he was happy about. Laura, his wife, was expecting a baby. Again. This would be their third child and by the sounds of things, this bundle of love had been a bit of an oops. They hadn't planned on anymore, being happy with the two, a boy and girl, that they had already.

This was when she felt the pain she usually buried so, so far down. This was when Natasha felt the agony she would always feel over her own little girl. She knew Rose was happy, Rose was safe and Rose had the opportunity to be a normal kid. When she heard Clint talk of his arrangement it all seemed so tempting.

Of course, Natasha knew better, she didn't have a wife at home (or husband, not that she cared what gender they were very much) she had no one else for Rose. Often the team would be working on something for months at a time. Rose was a kid, and Natasha wanted her to have that chance, the chance that she herself had never had. She had been forced to grow up and get on. Rose could live out a life of safety and happiness and love, even if that love had to come from someone else.


End file.
